Knocking On Heaven's Door
by mashimoshi
Summary: Aramis and Porthos get captured by sadistic men who seem to enjoy torturing innocent people. Will they make it out? Will Athos and d'Artagnan be able to rescue them? Or will the door to death finally open for them, forcing them to step into Heaven and never return?
1. Chapter 1

**New story! This one is not romantic in any way, just angsty. I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to read and review! I love all your feedback.**

 **-M**

* * *

As Porthos woke, he felt all of his muscles aching. He slowly opened his tired eyes, looking around his surroundings. He was underground, in some kind of prison. There was a small barred window on the ceiling, letting in a small ray of light. On his right, the wall was barred, a metal door on the far left of the bars, locked from the outside. There was definitely no way out.

The Musketeer sighed quietly. He was just about to get up when he remembered something … or someone. Aramis.

Turning his head, he saw his friend, curled up against the wall He was dressed in only his pants, his shirt - which was now covered in dirt - and his boots, his doublet nowhere to be found. Porthos saw that he was dressed in the same way. There was dried blood covering Aramis' temple, making its way down to his ear and disappearing in his messy locks, which were slightly damp. He looked peaceful, but pained at the same time.

Knowing that Aramis needed to wake up, Porthos placed his hand on the other man's shoulder and shook him gently. "Aramis, my friend, wake up," he said softly. "It's Porthos. I'm here with you."

Aramis let out a groan, his eyes opening. "Porthos?" he mumbled, his speech slightly slurred.

"Do you have a concussion?" Porthos asked in reply.

His friend furrowed his eyebrows, as if deep in thought. After some thinking, he shook his head and said, "No." He sat up, throwing his head against the stone he was sitting against. "Where are we?" he said next, his eyes scanning their cell.

"I don't know," replied Porthos, his eyes never straying from Aramis.

The two Musketeers jerked when a sudden scream erupted from another part of cave they were in. It must be massive, the two of them realized.

"I'm guessing that this isn't revenge," Porthos said, sadness and relief in his voice.

"Hmm," hummed Aramis. "Is that for better or for worse?"

Porthos faced him. "I don't know," he said. "All we can do now is wait."

Aramis nodded slowly. "I pray that this is all just a misunderstanding."

It was then that Porthos snorted, a smile forming on his face. "Knowing our luck, this is most definitely not a misunderstanding."

The other man chuckled. "Now I pray that you're wrong," he said.

"Since when have I ever been wrong?" Porthos teased. But inside, he hoped that he really was wrong, and that this was all a mistake. But somehow, he began thinking that it wasn't. Every once in awhile, they would hear another scream, each one closer to them than the other. Each time there was a scream, Porthos saw that Aramis flinched, his eyes beginning to dart back and forth.

When Aramis winced for, what Porthos counted, the seventh time, the bigger Musketeer took his hand and squeezed gently. "It's going to be alright, Aramis, I'm sure of it." He paused. "You better not be getting soft on me."

Aramis let out a weak laugh. "Me?" he asked. "Why, I would never. How dare you accuse me of such a thing?" Once again, he threw his head back, taking a deep breath. "I am worried, Porthos," he said, more seriously this time. "I cannot even imagine what those screams were from."

"I know." Porthos gave Aramis' hand another squeeze. "Me too. But keep in mind, this is us we're talking about. We don't break that easily … Do we?"

Another soft laugh. "No, we most certainly do not."

"Well then let's keep it that way."

XxXxX

Night had fallen, leaving the two Musketeers surrounded by darkness, save for the small patch of moonlight coming through the barred window of their cell. That being said, the temperature had dropped immensely, leaving them cold, as well as hungry and thirsty, having not gotten any food or water in the last twelve hours or so.

The men had decided to take turns keeping watch. Porthos took the first shift, quick to realize that Aramis was much more tired than he really let on. Still, he was surprised when Aramis had obeyed immediately, ied down against the wall again, and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Taking a closer look now, Porthos noticed the deep, dark circles under his closed eyes. _Maybe he is concussed,_ he thought. _Or maybe not…_

He began to think of the last couple of days. He, Athos, d'Artagnan, and Aramis has been sent on a mission, one where they had to travel to faraway village whose people were brutally attacked by unknown men. He remembered how Aramis had spent days with little to no sleep, occupying himself in trying to treat every villager that had been injured during the attack.

 _That's why he's so exhausted,_ thought Porthos. I should have known.

He also recalled that some of those villagers had been kidnapped, or at least that was what the people left were claiming. He began to think that this is where the ones missing were being held.

 _But how did we get here?_

As the memory came back to him, he cursed silently, blaming himself for not being careful enough. They had gone to the river to get some more water for them and the village when they were attacked. Aramis had been shoved into the water, and beaten until he was unconscious. Porthos couldn't even remember how he had been taken down, but now that he was here, he knew there was no point thinking about it anymore.

Porthos pulled himself out of his thoughts when he heard Aramis start shivering. _He never did well with cold after Savoy,_ the big man told himself.

Careful not to wake him up, Porthos gathered Aramis into his arms, rubbing his arm to try and give him some warmth. He watched as Aramis let his head fall on his chest, and he smiled at how easily the sleeping man trusted him.

He was about to say something when the door to his cell opened. Too worried about Aramis, Porthos didn't take the chance to rush to their one and only exit.

Two men walked into the room. The one walking in front was tall, but that was all Porthos could tell. The one walking behind him was shorter, and was holding a torch. He had blond hair and icy blue eyes that carried nothing but coldness.

"Who are you?" asked Porthos, unknowingly pulling his friend closer to himself.

The two men walked forward, now standing over their prisoners. "What do you reckon, brother? How long will these two last?" the taller one asked. Now that he was closer and in the light, Porthos noticed that the man had slightly darker hair than his companion. His eyes, which were just as merciless as the other's, were green.

"Well, they look strong," his brother replied. "I would say a week or two."

"I agree."

Porthos watched the two of them with anger in his eyes. "What is this?!" he yelled. "Who are you?!"

"Well," the tall man said, a smile on his face. "We are the Bourdin Brothers. My name is Claude de Bourdin, and this is my younger brother, Philippe. And you are our captives. I can assure you, you will never step outside again. By the time we're done with you two, you will be too broken to even take a single step."

"Watch us," snarled Porthos.

Philippe crouched down. "It would be wise not to cross us," he said. "Or else you will pay the price. You know, you should have ran back to your country, saved us the trouble."

"Hey!"

The sudden yell made Porthos jump. He did not know that Aramis had been awake this entire time. The next thing he knew, Aramis was above and in front of him.

"How dare you," he was saying. "You have no right to speak that way.."

Porthos gasped when Claude came up to Aramis and brought his fist into the other man's stomach. And then Philippe was holding him back, forcing to watch the beating Claude was giving poor Aramis.

In what seemed like an eternity, but was only a few minutes, Claude finally delivered the final kick. He nodded to Philippe, who then let go of Porthos and stepped back.

The bigger man dashed to his fallen friend., and sat him up against himself. He didn't even notice when their captives left. He was more concerned about Aramis.

"Why did you have to stand up for me, you idiot?" he whispered, brushing some of Aramis' stray hair out of his eyes.

Aramis leaned to the side and spit out blood. "I … couldn't let them … say those things about you." He closed his eyes, his ribs burning. "And what do … you mean, 'idiot'?"

Porthos broke into laughter. He then helped Aramis come to the wall again, using his legs as a pillow as he made him lay down. "Just rest, my friend," he said. "You need it, you look awful."

"Thanks … Porthos." Aramis' voice was laced with pain and exhaustion. His head dropped down, and then he was fast asleep again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Second chapter. I hope you enjoy. It gets good in the next chapter, I promise. Don't forget to read and review.**

 **-M**

* * *

The next time Aramis woke, pain engulfed him. He knew right away that the bastard that beat him her cracked one of his ribs. He tried to sit up, but was rewarded with pain rushing through his entire body. "Bloody Hell," he said through gritted teeth.

"Now that's the way to wake up," a familiar voice said.

Once finally succeeding in sitting up, Aramis sighed. "Always full of remarks, aren't you, Porthos?" he asked tiredly.

"Always," replied Porthos. He watched Aramis for any signs of discomfort, and he could see plenty. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I have just been trampled by a dozen horses." Aramis looked at the ceiling window. "It's almost morning," he stated.

Porthos nodded. "I'm afraid that those bastards will come back," he said. "At this point, it's just a matter of when-"

And then the cell door opened, through which the Bourdin Brothers came in.

"Speak of the Devil," Porthos muttered.

"I see the big mouthed one has awaken," Philippe said, smiling coldly. "I would have thought that your beating would have knocked him out for much longer, Claude."

Porthos heard Aramis growl softly. He quickly reached for his arm and gave it a light squeeze, telling him not to do anything.

"So who would we start with today?!" Philippe continued. "Personally, I would like to continue with that one." He pointed to Aramis. "What do you think, brother?"

Claude, who was admiring the knife he was holding, looked up. He pointed the knife at Aramis, smirking. "I think that you're right," he said.

All of a sudden, he threw the knife straight at Aramis. The man gasped, moving his head just in time as the weapon hit the wall. He stared at Claude with wide eyes, taking deep breathes.

"Let's begin, shall we?" Philippe asked.

In a couple of hours, Claude and Philippe finally left the cell. Left behind were two tried and hurt Musketeers.

Porthos had been beaten up a little, but it was nothing compared to Aramis. The poor man had obtained a rather deep knife wound, as well as plenty of deep cuts and bruises. Along with that, Claude - who was the one giving Aramis the beating - had taken him out of the room for a few minutes, and when he brought him back, Aramis was soaked and was having trouble speaking. Porthos realized that Claude had tried to drown him.

When Claude had finished, he kicked Aramis to Porthos, who had been chained against a wall. Philippe had quickly let him down, and then the two of them left.

The bigger man dropped to his knees instantly, pulling Aramis into an embrace. He felt his friend trembling against him, his teeth chattering.

"Finally," whispered Aramis.

"Did he try to drown you?" Porthos asked then, ruffling Aramis' hair a little to get the water out.

Aramis nodded. "Only … a little bit," he said.

A growl escaped Porthos' mouth. "That bastard."

"Don't you worry, my friend, I'm fine," said Aramis, reaching for Porthos' arm. "I just need … some rest."

"Then I will keep watch for you," replied Porthos.

Once again, Aramis nodded. "I know you will."

XxXxX

Porthos woke up alone. He cursed when the realization came: they took Aramis.

The big man rushed to his feet, dashing to the bars. A man, who Porthos presumed was a guard, was walking past the cell. Porthos took this chance to yell, "Hey! Where did the brothers take my friend?!"

The guard laughed. "I don't know, but when they're done with him, he'll be in broken pieces." He laughed once more and then walked away.

Porthos roared, shaking the bars. He was interrupted when he heard someone scream. It was Aramis. Porthos always knew when it was him. He shook the bars one more time before stepping back and beginning to pace.

Another heartrending scream.

Laughter, and then more screams.

 _Will it ever end?!_ thought Porthos.

In what seemed like forever, another guard walked by, dragging Aramis behind him. He opened the doors and threw the poor man in, smiling when Aramis hit the wall and let out a quiet moan.

"Aramis!" yelled Porthos, running over to him. Once gathering him into his arms again, he began accessing all his injuries. He gasped when he saw the deep whip lashes marring Aramis' entire back. "They whipped you," he mumbled, closing his eyes. Without noticing it, he hugged Aramis tighter, which elicited a cry from the young man. Porthos quickly loosened his hold.

"They walked in … while you were sleeping," whispered Aramis, his voice trembling. "Wanted … to take you away … c-called you a slave. I could not let … them. So they … took me instead." He shivered, though he was drenched in sweat, and began to cough.

Porthos sighed. "You can be so stupid sometimes," he said, feeling tears forming in his eyes.

In return, Aramis groaned.

"Shh," soothed Porthos. "Everything will be just fine." At this point, he wasn't sure if he was trying to assure Aramis … or himself.

He gently shifted Aramis so he would be lying on the ground, and then Porthos took off his shirt, leaving himself in another light shirt he always wore for warmth. He split the shirt into two pieces, and then he bandaged Aramis' waist. His injured friend did nothing to stop him.

When he was finished, Porthos laid Aramis against him, cradling him in his arms. _This time, I won't fall asleep,_ he said to himself.

As if reading his mind, Aramis suddenly said, "You need rest … just a-as much as … I do. Please … sleep. For me." He reached for Porthos' hand, wrapping his fingers around it.

"I will do my best, my friend," replied Porthos, squeezing Aramis' shaking hand. "I promise."

"Thank … you," was Aramis' broken reply.

XxXxX

Days passed, and for whatever reason, Aramis was getting tortured almost every day. Maybe it was because the two brothers just wanted to see him suffer for trying to protect Porthos, but still, it was cruel. Sometimes they would force Porthos to watch as they beat on Aramis, but sometimes they took the poor man out of the cell. Sometimes, Porthos could hear Aramis' pained cries, which was always so terrible to listen to.

When they threw Aramis into the cell, the man would barely be conscious, and Porthos knew that he couldn't do anything but provide him with some kind of comfort.

Soon enough, Aramis developed a fever. And with that fever, came many awful nightmares. Every time one came along, Porthos patiently waited it out with his comrade. "Just let it out, Aramis," he told him softly. "It will be over soon.

Finally, Aramis, who was too exhausted and hurt to fight any longer, fell unconscious, slumped against Porthos' arms. He would not stop trembling, his breathing came out in weak wheezes, and his chest rumbled every time he took in air. It hurt Porthos to see his best friend like this … so he continued to try and help him, although he knew that there wasn't much he could do.

The cell door suddenly opened.

Porthos tensed, ready to protect Aramis with his own body if need be.

But it wasn't one of the brothers that came in … It was a woman.


	3. Chapter 3

**New chapter. Rather short, but I like it. Tell me what you think. Please make sure to read and review. Thank you for all the support you lovelies have already given me. I love all of you!**

 **-M**

* * *

The woman, who was of twenty years, had long, blond hair, and green eyes. Somehow, she looked familiar, although Porthos couldn't quite place it. She was wearing a dirtied dress, and in her hands, she carried a large box.

As Aramis opened his tired eyes, he let out a quiet gasp. He began to struggle, wincing in pain. "Y-You?" he mumbled. "You … No…?"

Porthos began rubbing Aramis' arm for support. "You know her?" he asked him. Looking back up, hatred filled his eyes. "Get away if you know what's best for you," he threatened. The girl kneeled down, placing the box on the ground beside her. Taking a closer look at it, Porthos saw that they were full of medical supplies … as well as a bottle of wine. "Who are you?" he asked. "Why are you here?"

"Shut up and let me help you," she replied. "My name is Annabelle … and I am a Bourdin sister. Only, I do not approve of my brothers' actions. Unfortunately, I have been forced to help them, since they have threatened to kill me if I refused. I have not been hurting your friend, Aramis, but I have been giving my brothers the supplies they need." She paused. "And I regret every minute of it. So I decided to help, both you, and your friend. All you have to do is let me."

"I-It is true…," Aramis weakly said. He made an attempt to sit, and, with the help of Porthos, succeeded. "I saw you … your regret. I understand … And I thank you. F-For this."

Annabelle nodded, and then reached for the bottle of wine. "Will you let me?" she asked Porthos. "Please?"

Porthos' eyes fell on his friend, who had closed his eyes and began to tremble again. Growling quietly, he nodded. "Just help him," he said, squeezing Aramis' hand. He propped Aramis up so that his back was facing Annabelle. He took the wine and uncapped the bottle. "This will hurt, you hear me, Aramis?" he murmured. "Just hang in there for me."

Aramis nodded slowly. "I h-have been through w-worse," he whispered. "Just do it." He closed his eyes and tensed, preparing himself. But he wasn't prepared enough. As the burning liquid hit his skin, he groaned, biting his lip.

"I am so sorry, my friend," Porthos said as he continued pouring. "I'm almost done."

When he finally finished, Annabelle handed him some bandages, and then he wrapped Aramis' entire upper body, flinching every time the poor man let out a choked cry. Once done, he took the remainder of the wine, took a small sip, and then raised the bottle to Aramis' lips. "Drink," he said. "You need it."

Aramis gratefully drank, finding relief. When he had enough, he jerked his head as if to say that he was done. He felt the bottle being taken away, and he muttered a small 'thank you' in return.

Next, Porthos and Annabelle mended any other wounds Aramis had. When it was all over and done with, Annabelle stood up. "I must go," she said. "If my brothers found out about this, they would kill me. I will leave the box in a corner, and I will cover it with hay." She pointed to the room's corner, where there was a stack of hay. Porthos wondered how he had never even noticed it before. Annabelle hit the box, and then she grabbed a small amount of hay, and brought it over to the two men. "Just in case you need it," she said. She reached for Aramis, and cupped his face. "I promise, I will come back soon."

Aramis smiled tiredly. "T-thank you … Annabelle," he slurred. "Thank you."

Annabelle smiled in return, and then retired from the cell.

The minute she was gone, Aramis slumped, moaning. "Is it over?" he asked.

Porthos took his hand, and said, "Yes, Aramis, it is done. You may rest now."

With that, Aramis sighed and fell asleep in seconds, shaking in pain.

XxXxX

Annabelle visited every time Aramis - or Porthos - were tortured. She always brought them supplies, and did whatever she could to help them. She even brought food and water.

"Y-you … You're a g-godsend," Aramis had told her.

"I only wish I could do more," she had replied.

But the three of them should have known that it wasn't going to last long. They should have known that this was all going to end in pain. Only it happened way too quickly.

The young woman was giving Aramis water, when the cell door smashed open … and the Bourdin Brothers came in. Annabelle gasped, and stood up. "Claude! Philippe!" she exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth.

"You bitch!" Claude yelled, rushing at her. He grabbed her arm, and slapped her as hard as he could. "How could you?!"

"No!" Aramis cried, scrambling to his feet, too quick for Porthos to stop him. "Leave her alone!"

In return, Philippe stepped in front of him and punched him to the ground. "Know this, Aramis," he said. "Her death will be on your hands."

Aramis and Porthos watched as Claude manhandled his poor sister out of the cell. Annabelle was screaming and sobbing, begging for the Musketeers to help her. As the realization came, Aramis sank to the ground. Pain engulfed him … but he did not care.

"Annabelle," he whispered, tears forming in his eyes. He refused to let them fall down. "No."

"Aramis."

The poor man barely even heard Porthos calling him. He continued to stare blankly at the cell door. He felt arms wrap around him, holding him tight, but he paid no attention. "Annabelle," he repeated. "This is all my fault … All my fault."

"No, Aramis, this isn't your fault," Porthos said. "I promise you."

Without saying anything else, Aramis dropped his head on Aramis' chest, and closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to never wake up.

XxXxX

Back at the Musketeer Garrison, Treville, Athos, d'Artagnan, and Constance were tirelessly trying to find their missing friends, only to no success.

Would they ever find their friends, they kept asking themselves. They prayed that they would before they would be too late.


	4. Chapter 4

**A new chapter! So sorry for such a long wait. I kind of got writer's block for this story, but I also have had a pretty crazy and tiring week, so again, I apologize. This chapter, I think, is pretty nice, although there isn't as much angst as I really wanted to have. I just couldn't fit it in. I think I will probably end this story either in the next chapter or the one after.**

 **But for the time being, enjoy Chapter 4. Please don't forget to read and review!**

 **-M**

* * *

 _What is it like being a Musketeer?" Annabelle asked._

 _Porthos snorted at the girl's innocent question. "Well what do you want to know?" he asked her, looking down at a half asleep Aramis lying in his arms._

 _"Being a Musketeer …," Aramis rasped quietly, opening his tired eyes and locking gazes with Annabelle. "Has its ups and … downs, but, most of the time, it is … good fun. The adventure-" He coughed, and then continued, "The adventures … the excitement … You would like it, if you enjoy all that."_

 _Annabelle nodded. "I do," she replied. "Please, tell me more."_

 _The injured man was about to speak, when Porthos placed his own hand on his arm. "Save your breath, Aramis," he said. "I'll do it." He looked up at Annabelle and smiled. "Aramis was one of the first to join the regiment when it was first founded," he began to explain. "One of the best soldiers …"_

 _"Oh … stop it." Aramis laughed softly. "That is not … t-true."_

 _Porthos cupped his mouth to the side, and smiled. "He is so modest," he said._

 _Annabelle giggled. "More, please!"_

 _"Alright, Alright." The big man smirked. "Aramis, how about I tell Annabelle about the time we were forced to run around in the forest … You know, when those bounty hunters were after us."_

 _Once again, Aramis chuckled. "G-Go for it," he whispered, closing his eyes. He dropped his head against his best friend's chest, letting out a breath._

 _For the next hour, Porthos had fun talking about the adventures he and Aramis had. By the time he was finished, Aramis was asleep, his breathing raspy. When Annabelle and Porthos noticed, they nodded to each other. Annabelle leaned forward and planted a kiss on Aramis' cheek, and then left the cell._

 _But then about a day later, after being tortured severely, an awful fever claimed Aramis. Porthos began thinking that he had pneumonia; he prayed that he didn't. If he did, there would be no way to get out of their situation alive._

 _Annabelle had returned to help that day, and the two of them worked hard to try and settle Aramis down from, both, the fever and the nightmares, that seemed to be worse than ever before._

 _But when they finally succeeded, poor Aramis barely had any more strength left. He was so tired and in so much pain. "Tell … m-me a story … Annabelle," he requested, his voice laced with an unbelievable amount of exhaustion._

 _The girl looked at Aramis with sympathy in her bright green eyes. "Of what, Aramis?" she asked. "What would you like to know?"_

 _"Tell us a funny story," said Porthos, whom Aramis was using as a pillow. "Anything funny, really." His voice was filled with exhaustion, too._

 _Annabelle looked thoughtful for a minute, but then her eyes lit up and she said, "I think I know."_

 _"Well, go on then." Porthos managed a small smile._

 _Once taking a deep breath, Annabelle returned the smile and began, "So when I was little…"_

XxXxX

Aramis gasped awake, looking around his cell. But Annabelle wasn't there. The Musketeer sighed when he remembered what had happened.

"She's not here, Aramis," said Porthos. His sudden voice made Aramis jump. "I heard her screams somewhere in this prison. I doubt she'd still alive."

Aramis sat up from Porthos' lap and leaned against the wall. His wounds were burning, but he didn't care. "Don't say that," he whispered. "There could still be a chance…"

"Annabelle risked her life to help us," Porthos interrupted. "She knew what could have happened to her. But she still decided to come here every day. Look at me Aramis." When the injured man locked gazes with him, Porthos continued, "This is not your fault."

"I should have asked her to stay away," said Aramis, closing his eyes. "I should have protected her." He paused, sucking in a breath. "I should have-"

Right at that time, the cell door opened and the Brothers came in. Porthos could instantly see the look of fear in his friend's tired eyes; he could barely believe that Aramis was genuinely _afraid_ of someone.

"Where is Annabelle?" asked Aramis, his voice wavering slightly. He cursed himself for showing weakness.

"Where she belongs," replied Claude, his voice void of any emotion. "Now, we are here to give you what you deserve."

"And I promise you," Philippe added. "It will not be pretty."

They both smiled, their smiled bringing shivers up Aramis and Porthos' spines.

XxXxX

"I know where they are!" Athos exclaimed, rushing to get to his feet. He looked at d'Artagnan, who had been busy looking through papers and maps. He now was looking at Athos, his eyes pleading. The older man continued, "I should have realized this from the very beginning. I was so stupid!"

"Just tell us already!" yelled Treville, who was standing above them, on the balcony of the garrison. He was leaning against the rail, his hands shaking, and his eyes just as pleading as d'Artagnan's.

Athos nodded. "They are in the caves, a couple of miles away from that town we had to help. Years ago, they used to be prisons. It all leads up to this: The people going missing, Aramis and Porthos nowhere to be found … It has to be it."

He looked at Treville, who nodded. "I will send you and d'Artagnan there with twenty to thirty men. Get our Musketeers back, as well as those people, if there are any left."

Athos nodded in return and then turned back to d'Artagnan. "Let's go get our brothers back," he said, reaching out his hand for the young man to take.

D'Artagnan happily took Athos' hand. "It's about time," he mumbled. "I don't know how I can live without Porthos' rambling any longer. You are way too quiet."

And then he smiled for the first time in weeks.

Seeing d'Artagnan cheered up, Athos couldn't help but grin himself. He laughed and looked up at the sky, silently thanking God.

They were finally bringing Aramis and Porthos back home!


	5. Chapter 5

**So, this is the last chapter of this story! I've had so much fun with it, even though the progress was slow. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much I enjoyed writing it.**

 **A shout out to all those wonderful human beings, who took the time to review on the crap that is my writing... ;) You have no idea how much I appreciate and love every one of you lovelies.**

 **Can't wait to see you guys in the next story!**

 **-M**

* * *

Musketeers rushed into the underground cave system, killing guards and freeing prisoners. Athos and d'Artagnan looked into each cell, searching frantically for their two friends. They really didn't expect to see what they found.

Aramis was lying in Porthos' arms, shivering. The bigger man was holding onto him like his life depended on it, like he could never let go. They were both asleep, each of them carrying an awful amount of injuries. It was Aramis that looked worse than ever.

Athos and d'Artagnan ran over to the two of them. As Athos fell onto his knees, Porthos was just waking up. And when he saw Athos, a sigh escaped him. "Thank God," he whispered. "Just get him out of here … Please."

"An-Annabelle…"

D'Artagnan's eyes traveled from Aramis to Porthos. "Who is Annabelle?" he asked.

Porthos grunted as he sat up, continuing to cradle his friend in his arms. "She helped us … She's the sister of the men behind all of this. They … took her away. She might be dead, but there is still a chance that she's alive. You have to find her. For Aramis' sake."

"I'll start a search," said d'Artagnan. "Athos, just get them out of here."

In return, the older Musketeer nodded. "Go," he said.

It took longer than Athos expected to get Aramis into one of the carriages the King had provided for them. But the minute the doors were closed, Athos gave the driver a signal, and then they were on their way home.

The minute they arrived at the garrison, Athos sent Porthos to be checked for any major injuries, but took Aramis to the infirmary, where he called for the doctor for help.

"He has been in captivity for weeks," he explained to the medic when he arrived. "Please, mend whatever you can."

The doctor nodded, staring at his new patient with sadness in his eyes. "I will do all that I can."

After hours of struggling, the doctor bandaged the last of Aramis' wounds, he finally left him to rest. As he walked up to Athos, he sighed. "I have done all I could. Make sure you give your friend all the medications I will provide for you. The instructions are all there."

"Thank you so much, doctor," said Athos.

The man smiled weakly. "I have never seen someone who had gone through so much," he said. "But … I can tell that he's strong. He will be fine." With that he nodded, and left the room. On his way out of the garrison, he mumbled to himself, "I hope."

XxXxX

As Aramis finally began to wake up, pain engulfed him. The minute he opened his eyes, fear took over the pain. There was someone next to him!

"Stay away from me!" he cried, not even realizing how week his voice sounded. "Please!"

"Aramis, Aramis, it's alright," a familiar, gentle voice said. "You're safe now. I promise. You have nothing more to worry about."

And then he saw him. "P-Porthos…?" he whispered. He immediately noticed the wounds covering his face, and understood that this was real. He saw that he was in the garrison's infirmary, lying in a comfortable bed. Porthos was sitting next to him on a chair. "Dear God, are we out of there?"

The big man placed his arm on Aramis' and smiled weakly. "Yes, Aramis, we're out. And safe. The Bourdin Brothers are gone for good, too. They're in the Bastille, awaiting execution."

Aramis nodded slowly … But then a thought stuck him. "Annabelle?!" He began to struggle.

Porthos quickly held him down. "D'Artagnan found her, and she's alive. Just a little beaten and shaken. But she's going to be fine."

Aramis slumped into his pillows, letting out a breath. He muttered out a silent prayer, thanking God for this one bit of relief. When he finished, he looked back at his best friend, a small grin gracing his lips. "We made it out, Porthos," he said softly. "We did it."

His friend grasped his hands and nodded. "Yes we did, Mis," he replied. "We definitely did."

"Thanks to you," said Aramis, closing his eyes. "If it weren't for you, I would not be here right now."

"Oh, stop talking nonsense, Mis, you would have been just fine," said Porthos. "I'm sure of it."

The injured man shook his head. "I'm not," he said. "Porthos I almost died … If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here. And what happened to Annabelle … That was my fault, because I couldn't protect myself." He paused for a second. "I have to see her," he continued. "I need to-"

"No, Aramis, you need rest," said Porthos. "Give yourself a few days to recover, and either Annabelle will come to see you, or you will go see her when you heal. Does that sound fair?"

After a few moments of silence, Aramis nodded. "Yes," he whispered.

"That's a good lad," said Porthos. He stood up from his seat beside Aramis' bed, patting his forearm. "Now rest. And relax. You have nothing more to worry about."

XxXxX

The next time he woke, it was from a nightmare. As he startled awake, he saw Annabelle sitting at his side, reading a book, quietly turning the pages. There was a pretty deep gash going down her cheek, and the way she sat proved that she had at least two broken ribs.

When she saw him, her eyes lit up. "Aramis!" she exclaimed. "You're awake." She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his forehead, taking his hand. The movement probably made her ribs burn, since she winced after a couple of seconds and pulled back.

"I am just so grateful that you're here … alive," said Aramis. "I had thought that you were … gone."

"Well I'm here now, aren't I, Aramis?" replied Annabelle. She cupped his face. "Now, you have to keep on resting. I will stay here."

"Annabelle, you do know that your brothers are to be executed?" Aramis suddenly asked.

The woman nodded. "Yes, Porthos told me," she said. "It will be four days from now. I cannot wait to see them hanged…"

"Me too."

Aramis' eyes went out of focus as he stared vacantly at the floor. Without even knowing it, he fell asleep.

XxXxX

It was the day of the execution.

God, how _excited_ Aramis was for this day.

His friends had tried to convince him to stay in bed, to keep on resting, but he refused, saying that after everything that the Bourdin brothers did to him, he needed this. Not only that, but he also needed to get out of bed. He was becoming restless.

As he stared at himself in the mirror, he couldn't believe how much he changed. His hair was longer, and he decided to keep it that way; he liked it. He had trimmed his beard a couple of days after he woke up, but was happy with leave his messy locks as they were.

He had lost weight, a lot of weight, but he was getting much better. He looked pale, but not as pale as before, for which he was grateful. And he looked tired, even with all the sleep he had been getting…

"Aramis," said a gentle voice.

The man turned around and smiled slightly. "Athos," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I just came to see if you need any help," Athos replied. His eyes fell on the almost dressed Aramis. "I see you're doing just fine without any help."

Aramis chuckled. "I'm almost ready," he explained.

"How are you feeling?" asked Athos, placing his hand on Aramis' shoulder. "You're pale."

"I am just fine, Athos," Aramis replied, looking at his reflection. "I'm just anxious … Those sadists need to get what they deserve. And not just for what they did to Porthos and myself … but what they did to all those other people in that God awful prison."

Athos nodded. "I understand."

"Thank you."

XxXxX

It was time.

As the Bourdin Brothers were led onto the wooden platform, a shiver ran up Aramis' spine. He closed his eyes for a brief second … but then he forced himself to open them.

It was then that he found Claude Bourdin staring at him, a smile on his face. _We still won,_ he mouthed.

Another shudder.

The noose was wrapped around the brothers' necks. Aramis stared at them with his mouth open. He breathed in the cold air, letting it burn his lungs. _It is almost over,_ he told himself. _This nightmare is almost over._

As the rope tightened, and the men's bodies went limp, Aramis let out the breath he was holding. He fell against Porthos, who wrapped his arm around the shaking man.

"It's over, Mis," the big man whispered. "It's finally over."

"Finally," Aramis muttered, closing his eyes and burying his head in Porthos' chest.


End file.
